


Don't Kiss the Messenger

by zuotian



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blank Period, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Multi, Open Marriage, Polyamory, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-01-15 20:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18506944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuotian/pseuds/zuotian
Summary: A small part of Lee would always love Sakura. And that was okay. Everything was okay. Lee was okay.Until he fell for Sasuke, too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!!!! welcome to rare pair hell round 2 with double the rare pair as it is now a threesome and i've invented a new pairing tag! 
> 
> this idea would not leave me alone. i started writing it, couldn't stop, about 4 or 5 hours later here we are.
> 
> this is something of a continuation of my previous sasuke/lee fic. you don't need to read it, just know that sasuke and lee were very close to having a Moment when they were kids but it never came to fruition. followed by a lot of unwitting flirting. 
> 
> i will probably continue this as a series. sakura and sasuke are both kind of selfish assholes in this - hence the dub con - but lee is very much on board, he is just confused and a really good guy who can't admit his feelings and doesn't understand anything at all. things will work out. 
> 
> sorry if sasuke is OOC. he was too fun to write, i might have gotten carried away. 
> 
> thanks for reading my weird niche fic.

A small part of Lee would always love Sakura. It was a love entirely different from the juvenile infatuation he felt years ago, for she was no longer  _ Sakura-chan _ , but _ Uchicha-san _ : a Sannin, the greatest medical nin in the world, and matriarch to the newly resurrected noble clan - yet it was love all the same, transfigured, exacerbated, and impossible. 

 

Lee knew he’d never had a real chance. Not when she was so obviously enamoured with Sasuke, despite his darkest days and greatest mistakes. Sasuke returning the affection was surprising. The manner in which he did so, frankly characteristic. 

 

Rumors spread that he met Sakura in secret frequency, like they were a pair of ill-fated lovers destined to the night, but Lee knew these rumors were false. Sakura saw Sasuke as much as anyone else did, which was seldom. Nearly a decade into exile, Sasuke’s self-imposed sabbatical had yet to end. As usual, Sakura took his cold distance in stride, pretended she understood him better than anyone else when, in reality, she barely understood him at all. 

 

Furthermore, as the years wore on the Konoha Eleven, had grown apart. Naruto entered an apprenticeship with the Rokudaime (and wasn’t that still so strange, Kakashi-sensei becoming Hokage), with Sasuke, of course, mostly absent. Lee’s own team moved on from their adolescent comradery - Tenten became an expert blacksmith, her weapons sought after across all five elemental nations, while Neji took on more clan responsibilities as Hinata’s betrothal to the future Nanadaime became readily apparent. Even Gai-sensei eased into retirement at Kakashi’s side. The rest of their peers proceeded with their own goals; some gained positions in T&I, ANBU, administration, and the Academy. 

 

After summarily proving her aptitude during the war, Sakura inherited Tsunade’s role as the hospital’s director, coordinator, and head healer without preamble. She no longer took missions outside of Konoha unless a medical emergency arose requiring her expertise. Her erratic schedule, busy and unpredictable, relegated her to Konoha’s immediate jurisdiction. She achieved her goals but became trapped in the village as a result. It was a far cry from the time spent meandering with Sasuke according to his nomadic lifestyle. 

 

As for himself, Lee supposed he was the last simple jounin left. His abilities were unmatched so he was constantly called to arms. But that did not equate to the amount of workload he was used to in wartime. 

 

Whenever he was in town he often visited Sakura, who appreciated the company. In many ways they were each other’s only true friend. The rest of Konoha Eleven remained close acquaintances, but the nature of adult life restricted means of socialization. 

 

Lee did not like to think about the implications of seeing Sakura more than her husband did. Certainly word spread about their situation. Sakura brushed it off with ease whenever Lee voiced his concerns - the Uchiha fan ever embroidered at the nape of her neck dashed any evidence of adultery. 

 

Besides, it wasn’t like their coupling was otherwise in the realm of possibility. Sakura made it clear when they were thirteen. This was fine with Lee. He gave up on romance a long time ago. Some people weren’t meant to find partners - it made sense that the boy dubbed Bushy Brows wouldn’t. 

 

But still, a small part of him would always love Sakura. He visited her during her short lunch breaks, helped bring groceries home, sat with her in the evenings as she tearfully, drunkenly, confessed her failings as a wife. And that was okay. Everything was okay. Lee was okay.

 

Until he fell for Sasuke, too. 

 

/ 

 

It all began one clear, balmy, unimportant night. A night like any other. Lee had spent a week at home and was slated to head out on another mission the next day. Customarily, Sakura invited him over. She couldn’t send him off in the morning - her shifts began before dawn - so she always entertained him the evening before with a nice meal and pleasant company. 

 

Sharp as ever, she dissected the mission’s pragmatics, or at least that which was not confidential, and assisted him in delineating every way the mission could go wrong or right. She liked having contingency plans at the hospital - and everywhere else, really, besides her marriage - and projected this habit onto Lee. He recited her plans back to her until everything was memorized, and took inventory of necessary and unnecessary supplies - just in case. Only then would she take him out to the Uchiha complex’s backyard to spar. 

 

The complex had been rebuilt on a massive, empty, and insignificant plot of land overlooked during the village’s initial reconstruction. It was small compared to the Hyuuga’s compound, even smaller when compared to the Uchiha’s old compound of eras gone by. 

 

Still, it was large enough to feel overwhelmingly empty, especially with only one occupant. The complex carried a haunted atmosphere. Haunted by whom, dead Uchiha or the one Uchiha left alive, Lee didn’t know. He couldn’t understand how Sakura lived there all alone in isolation. But, as with everything else, she suffered her grievances with unmitigatable strength and silence. 

 

The backyard sprawled to the forest and beyond that the infamous Naka River. Sakura recounted the river’s history to Lee every now and then, bestowing him small bits of information which, when pieced together, formed a dark story. Lee prided himself on these revelations and tried not to feel guilty about it. Sakura couldn’t be expected to shoulder the clan’s past on her own. Sasuke wasn’t around to act as witness, and he’d never find out. Or so Lee thought at the time. 

 

It was before this backdrop where Sakura and Lee sparred. There was but one stipulation - she could not activate her seal and he could not activate his Gates. It wasn’t much of a problem. Neither of them had supernatural powers. Their true prowess laid in abilities that were, while extraordinary, modestly mortal.

 

All their fights were good and clean and electric. Sakura harnessed brute force that shook the earth; Lee unleashed speed faster than the wind. Their styles exploited each other’s respective weaknesses, which brought out their respective strengths. Where Lee’s stamina prevailed, Sakura’s fervor rebutted. Her earth and water release against his taijutsu; his nunchaku against her debilitating fists. 

 

It always ended in a draw. Neither one ever bested the other. They’d merely halt, fist to fist, dripping with sweat and grinning, then relax their stances and admit the stalemate. 

 

Afterward, they’d sit in the tall grass underneath the starry sky while Sakura silently healed their wounds, the solitary light emanating from her hands casting the yard in a green haze not unlike a flock of fireflies. Lee was always moved by her medical talents; amazed at how she could erase the smallest cuts and largest gashes, stitch skin back together, recall blood into veins. And, sometimes, her touch would linger over his accentuated muscles a little too long as she tactilely marveled his physical build honed by decades of discipline. Lee could not force himself to confess his awe, or believe that Sakura’s lingering attentions meant anything more than clinical interest. But he appreciated these moments all the same. 

 

Assured that neither of them were harmed, Sakura would then retrieve a bottle of sake from inside the house. They’d pass the bottle back and forth by its neck, stealing long pulls straight from its mouth without pause. Sakura didn’t enjoy the mental limitations of inebriation and Lee was a nuisance inebriated. They never drank enough to get drunk, but just enough to spawn ruddy blushes and senseless laughter. 

 

A couple hours would pass in this manner, until the moon reached its zenith, signaling the end of their fun. Both of them would immediately sober, their movements and dialogue abruptly awkward, as if the moonlight was spotlighting something forbidden and untoward. Sakura would send Lee off at her front door with a tight hug. He’d squeeze back just as fiercely, promise her he’d be safe, then walk away, leaving her alone to fend off proverbial ghosts in her empty home. 

 

But tonight of all ordinary nights Sakura deviated from their charted course. 

 

She brought the sake out. They drank. The moon fastened directly above them, giant and luminescent. 

 

Lee slapped his knees, prepared to stand, but Sakura’s hand shot out and caught his wrist. She said nothing, though her green eyes beseeched him with an untold urgency. So Lee sat down and faced her properly, the sake set aside along with false pretenses. He could not keep up his act, not when Sakura clutched his arm in her calloused hand. 

 

“You’re going to the Land of Waves,” she said. Her voice sounded brash in the quiet night, blanketing the melodic chirps of insects.

 

“Yes,” Lee replied, confused. She’d made him draw two maps of his intended path, one for himself and one for her. “You know that.” 

 

She scowled at his implicit doubt regarding her memory and intelligence. “I know that I know that.” 

 

Lee kept himself from looking down at her hand around his wrist. “Okay…” 

 

Sakura glanced at the complex’s outer facade - its eaves thrusted ominously into the night. Her cheekbone cast a shadow over her jaw, hitched along pockmarked scars. She informed, unprompted, “Sasuke sends me letters when he gets the chance.”

 

“Right,” Lee said. Somehow everything came back to Sasuke. “I know that.” 

 

“I  _ know _ that you know that. Just - “ Sakura cut off and shook her head. She squeezed Lee’s wrist, turned to him again. No longer outlined by darkness, her scars melded back into the base tone of her skin. “He hasn’t written for a few weeks. Last I heard he was in the Land of Waves.” 

 

“Oh.” Lee understood where this was going. A small part of him would always love her - how could he say no to her unsaid request? “You want me to look for him.” 

 

“Only if you have the time,” she needlessly clarified. They both knew the mission’s parameters. They both knew he would have the time. 

 

He smiled sadly. “I would do anything for you.” 

 

She smiled back just as sadly. “I  _ definitely  _ know that.” Her hand slid down, she entwined their fingers. “Sometimes I think you’re the only thing keeping me sane, Lee.” 

 

“That’s not true,” Lee said, though he secretly preened at her confession. “Your own tenacity is what keeps you levelheaded. I have nothing to do with it.” 

 

“Maybe so,” she laughed, “but you certainly help.” Her eyes softened. She inhaled slowly, clapped her other hand over his so that he was bracketed in her warm, strong grasp. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

 

Lee’s heart began to hammer in his chest. Miserable hope beyond hope rose from his gut. He couldn’t bear to receive Sakura’s pointed gaze, suffer her gentle touch, or listen to the sentiment behind her words. “Don’t say such things. You’d be just fine without me.”

 

An amused, exasperated glint appeared in her eyes. “No, I wouldn’t. Really.” 

 

He loudly segued their conversation, “Anyway, I don’t know what you expect. I will try my best. But Sasuke’s never particularly liked me. I haven’t talked to him in - in,”  _ in years _ , Lee realized; whenever Sasuke returned to Konoha, his presence was reserved for Sakura, Naruto, and the Rokudaime in that order, “in a very long time. What would motivate him to explain his whereabouts?” 

 

“You don’t have to ask him anything,” Sakura assured. “I’ve never expected answers from him. Besides, he does like you. He respects you. He never knows how to say anything.” Before Lee had time to reflect on the sad prospect of her relationship or Sasuke’s apparent respect for him, she said, “I just want you to deliver a message.” 

 

Lee relaxed, somewhat relieved. He could handle that. “Which would be?” 

 

“This.” 

 

Sakura forcibly wrenched Lee forward. He sprawled in her lap, atop muscular thighs clothed in black shorts visible underneath the skirt of her red tunic. Usually her old-fashioned taste in clothes was a source of affection. Now it only aggrieved Lee, made him remember fantasies long buried.

 

“Sakura-chan,” he besieged, the honorific reflexive. “I don’t understand - “ 

 

She framed his face with her wide hands. “Lee.” Starkly enunciated, his name rang crystal clear from her mouth, a sedative for his growing anxiety. 

 

This was the moment he could fight out of her hold, scramble up to his feet, and stop whatever she was planning - and Lee understood with sudden clarity he was just another contingency plan. 

 

But he did not move.

 

Sakura leaned closer, her breath sweetened by the stench of sake. “Lee,” she repeated, softly, cloyingly. Her fingers wound into his silky black hair. She pet his ear, thumbed his sweaty temple.  

 

Lee held his breath as she lowered her mouth over his. She kissed him chastely, then increased the pressure. It was everything he ever wanted. The grass around them rustled, brushing their skin where it laid bare. Lee kissed her back, fiercely, desperately - until the world caught up with him and he froze, unresponsive. 

 

Sakura pulled back after a moment. She disengaged her embrace and stood, arms crossed over her chest, immediately swamped in shadow. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Lee stood in front of her. He fished for something to say. “I don’t… I didn’t…” His fists clenched determinedly; Sakura looked up to meet his gaze. “I would do anything for you,” he said.

 

She raked a hand through her hair and huffed a despondent laugh. “You’re impossible, Lee. You’re just too good for me.” 

 

“No, you’re perfect,” Lee blurted out. Sakura’s eyes widened. He bent to retrieve the sake before he could mindlessly elaborate and shoved the bottle into her hands. “I should go,” he said, and turned to leave. 

 

“Wait!” 

 

Lee paused. 

 

“Can I still say goodbye?” Sakura asked. “Please?”

 

He swallowed. “Of course.” 

 

She nodded, then glided past him into the house. 

 

He waited awkwardly as she gathered his things for him. His weapons, his map, her lists, her plans, other miscellaneous items he did not pay attention to. When she handed him his pack it was heavier than when he’d brought it. He shouldered the bag without comment and she lead him to the front door. 

 

They stood across from each other on either side of the threshold. Sakura bit her lip, brow knotted. 

 

“I’m really sorry,” she apologized again. “Please forgive me, Lee.” 

 

“There is nothing to forgive,” he promised and bowed. “Thank you for your hospitality, Sakura-chan.” 

 

“ _ Lee _ ,” she groaned, and stomped her foot like the little girl the knew lay dormant inside of her. “Cut it out with the manners.” 

 

He rose, straightfaced. “Goodnight, Sakura.” 

 

The streetlights illuminated her afflicted her expression. “Goodnight, Lee. Stay safe.” 

 

“I will,” he said. “What should I tell Sasuke?” 

 

“Tell him…” She sighed. “Just...show him someone still loves him, okay?”

 

Lee nodded. Then he walked away without looking back, leaving Sakura alone with her ghosts and grief and guilt. 

 

/

 

Lee’s mission was a simple delivery for a simple daimyo, ranked high only for the scoll’s confidentiality. He adeptly completed his task ahead of schedule, which gave him plenty of time to enjoy the Land of Waves’ natural beauty - or so he told the daimyo. 

 

Lee was a man of his word. He would deliver Sakura’s message. How, he hadn’t yet figured out, but he supposed he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. 

 

He came to that bridge with a surprising amount of ease. 

 

Sasuke was stationed at a small, unremarkable fishing village. A blip on the Waves’ economy, the village exported tuna and imported everything else. Organized crime financed its daily facilities. Years of peacetime might have rectified the terrors of world war, but it did nothing to quell smaller atrocities. The Land of Waves remained a hub for underground lawlessness and corruption, things which attracted Sasuke like a moth to light. 

 

Unlike Sakura, Lee wouldn’t pretend to understand Sasuke’s quest for retribution. He was of the opinion retribution started at home with your loved ones, and took a long time to acquire at that. But with little effort and even less emotion, Sasuke professed his love for Sakura, noncommittally patched his friendship with Naruto, and acknowledged Kakashi’s hand in shaping him as a man, before absconding to the world at large. 

 

Lee didn’t know what he thought of the Uchiha. He was not so extreme to consider him an unrepentant vagrant, but not so forgiving as to absolve him of all wrongdoing like Team 7. When they were boys, he regarded Sasuke as another potential rival, another competitor - if he ever thought too long about Sasuke’s dignified grace, lithe frame, mysterious attitude, or crimson eyes, well, he’d replace the images with Sakura’s beauty and forget about it. As it was, Sasuke’s near-constant absence allowed him to remain neutral, but now that he was about to meet the man for the first time in years, he supposed he had to figure out his personal opinion. 

 

Lee stumbled upon the fishing village by accident. The journey from the daimyo’s residency was long and the oceanside hamlet was the first township he came across. Dingy storefronts with broken windows and backdoor business lined cobbled avenues, all of which fell at a slope toward the ports. Dilapidated boats rocked with the swelling sea, buffeting rhythmically against rotten docks as fishermen sold their wares at stalls, the day’s catch stinking in the sun, displayed atop melting ice. 

 

Lee traversed with his guard up. The Land of Waves had a small shinobi presence; but its stock of outlaws, assassins, thieves, pimps, et cetera, remained at large. The hitai-ate on Lee’s forehead, emblazoned with the Leaf insignia, could attract wrongdoers looking for a quick bingo book cashout; all three Sannin, along with the rest of Konoha Eleven, had prices on their heads - Lee included. 

 

He knew this required Sasuke, whose punitory foils put him at the top of the bingo book, to keep a retinue of revolving disguises sometimes aided by genjutsu. Sasuke would blend into the locale, establish a regular presence, pick up an odd job, and scope out potential immorality like some benevolent vigilante. Once he located his target he’d reveal his true identity - if one witnessed this, they’d surely die - eliminate the threat, then disappear without a trace. 

 

All of this information was partly given by Sakura, but Lee came to his own conclusions. He appreciated Sasuke’s motives but did not approve of their costs. Ordinarily, it wasn’t any of his business. Except now he stood at the peripheral of Sasuke’s arrangement, Sakura’s heart a bargaining chip, an olive branch, a preposition - if he traveled back in time to warn himself of this predicament, his past self would not believe him. 

 

Lee ruminated on all of this as he searched for the least conspicuous inn. He’d rest for a day, replenish his supplies, then head off in search of Sasuke. He only had a few days until he’d be forced to return to Konoha. He didn’t really know where to begin in finding someone who refused to be found, but he couldn’t return to Sakura empty handed. Even if he was mad at her behavior, he didn’t want to disappoint her. A nagging suspicion conspired that larger forces were at play - but Lee was a man of his word. He loved Sakura. He would do anything for her. 

 

A smooth voice and a pale, beckoning hand jolted him out of his thoughts. “Looking for something?” 

 

Lee stiffened to a halt, appraised the empty street before him. It was in poor condition, even by the village’s low standards. Tenant buildings sat in a row, seemingly abandoned, but smoke and incense wafted out of their boarded windows, evidence of illegal activity at worst and squatters at best. 

 

“Over here,” the voice said. 

 

Lee turned toward the alley at his right, took a cautious step forward. 

 

The pale hand erupted from shadow and clutched the lapel of Lee’s jounin vest, dragging him into the darkness. 

 

Lee tore smacked the hand away, readied in an offensive stance. “What do you want?” he demanded. 

  
  


A civilian boy - no, a man, with obfuscatory long, black hair and slender build leaned back against the tenant building that made up half of the alley. “Relax,” he said, raising his empty hands, “I don’t mean any funny business.” He wore tattered but expensive garb - probably snatched off a rich merchant’s corpse. 

 

Lee did not lower his stance. “What do you want?” he repeated. 

 

The man shrugged. “You seem a little lost. Thought you might be looking for something.” 

 

Lee’s eyes narrowed. “Like what, exactly?” 

 

The man tucked a lock of hair behind his ear to show a glimmering purple eye. His voice lost is salacious tilt and sharpened to a raspy, deep near-growl Lee knew all too well. “Me.” 

 

“Sasuke!” Lee dropped his arms, stepped backward. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“It’s Nobuyuki, for now,” Sasuke said. He lifted his chin, cocked his head, appraised Lee openly with a small amount of suspicion. “What are  _ you _ doing here?” 

 

_ Looking for you _ , Lee nearly admitted, but said instead, “I completed a mission early. I wanted to rest before returning to Konoha.” 

 

Sasuke - with the visage of Nobuyuki, the Rinnegan, and his own voice - lifted a brow, unconvinced. “And you picked this dump, out of all places?” 

 

“It was nearby,” Lee supplied honestly. 

 

Sasuke scoffed. “You should get out of here.”

 

“Why?” Lee asked. Was he planning another assault? Was he worried Lee would blow his cover? “Do you know something I don’t?” 

 

“Because I don’t want you within my vicinity,” Sasuke snapped. He reigned his irritation and added, “I know a lot of things you don’t know.” 

 

Lee scowled, barely withheld from telling Sasuke he knew plenty about his  _ wife _ . “We aren’t boys anymore, Sasuke - “ 

 

“Nobuyuki,” Sasuke hissed. 

 

“Whatever!” Lee was uninterested in playing games. “If you have some operation, I promise I won’t interfere.” He broadened his shoulders, considered his next words were a good enough shot at gaining Sasuke’s audience, anyway, “Perhaps I could assist you.” 

 

“No,” Sasuke flatly denied. “You’re the most ostentatious person I’ve ever known.” Lee wasn’t sure if this was an insult to his stealth, or his personality. “Just get lost, before you cause problems. I shouldn’t be seen with a Leaf shinobi as it is.” 

 

He pushed off the wall. Before he could leave, Lee grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute - “ 

 

Lee was flipped around before he knew it, back against the wall, Sasuke’s forearm braced across his windpipe, a kunai poised at his abdomen. Sasuke snarled, teeth bared. Illusion withdrawn, his true form glared at Lee. Hair shortened to the top of his shoulders, face weathered and aged but undoubtedly original in its elegant, masculine, sharp structure - and the Rinnegan shining maliciously.

 

“Don’t touch me,” Sasuke spat; his saliva speckled across Lee’s upper lip. “ _ Leave _ . Or else I’ll force you too.”

 

Lee did not attempt to escape Sasuke’s hold. Bricks digging into his back, he met Sasuke’s glare with his own. “I have a message from Sakura,” he announced. There - all the cards were on the table. 

 

Sasuke searched his eyes for a long moment. He knew of Lee’s friendship with Sakura, knew Lee’s longstanding devotion towards her, knew Lee would not lie about such a thing. He holstered the kunai, lowered his arm, the mask reappearing as he did so, his face shifting so quickly Lee could not follow its change. “Follow me,” he barked, “And take off that damn forehead protector!”

 

Gravel loosened and shadows darkened as they advanced down the alley. They came to a lone door, thick and deadlocked. Sasuke procured a key from his robes. The lock clicked heavily. He opened the door, nodded for Lee to enter. 

 

Lee stepped inside. Another tenant building - the place was a mess, smelled of dead fish, cigarettes, and - predominantly, worryingly - raw sex. He doubted it had running water or electricity, judging by the leaky pipes and scant amount of light peering in through the slats of the boarded windows. 

 

Sasuke wordlessly lead him up a set of creaking stairs to the second floor. People loitered in the hallway, drugged and emaciated. Sasuke passed by them without a glance; but Lee’s steps faltered and his stomach churned as he looked back at the skeletal forms. Did Sasuke really live here? Had he devolved to a life of addiction? Is that why his correspondence had stopped?

 

Sasuke’s hand fell onto Lee’s shoulder and he was shoved into a room at the end of the hall. Sasuke slammed the door shut behind him, reset his traps and tags and wards. 

 

“You’re lucky they’re all half-dead,” Sasuke said once he was finished. He discarded the tattered robes onto a ratty bed; black shinobi undergarments laid underneath. “You’re so obvious.” 

 

“What is this place?” Lee asked, shaken to his core. He’d seen deplorable things during the war, but never such base depravity like the kind just on the other side of the door. 

 

Sasuke didn’t reply. He took a slow route along the perimeter of the small room, looking for - something, bugs or mics or assailants. Seemingly satisfied, he then peeked out the boarded windows before turning back to Lee. 

 

“ _ Sasuke _ ,” Lee appealed. 

 

“It’s a whorehouse,” Sasuke said. His eyes were cold and hard. “It’s part of my cover, which you’ve jeopardized.” 

 

Lee’s mouth fell slack. “But… but…” 

 

Sasuke smirked Lee’s dismay. “Where are all the whores, you may ask?” He sat down on the bed and reached an armspan’s length to open an icebox, from which he retrieved two browned apples. He leaned back against the wall and took a loud bite. “It’s still daylight out,” he explained, mid-chew, “they’re nocturnal creatures.” 

 

Lee needed to sit down. He collapsed onto an overturned crate in the corner opposite of Sasuke. “And Nobuyuki is…?” 

 

“Your average prostitute.” Sasuke chucked the second apple in Lee’s direction. As Lee’s mind struggled to process Sasuke’s words, his body instinctively caught the fruit. Lee held the apple tight, his nails piercing the soft skin. Sasuke’s smirk deepened with excessive mirth. “Don’t look so surprised, Lee.” 

 

Hearing his own name on Sasuke’s tongue - when had Lee heard that last? Before the war? Before Sasuke’s defection? - spurred Lee to regain his wits. 

 

He jumped to his feet - crushed the apple in his fist - “You’re copulating with - with this filth?! When you’re married to Sakura?!” His opinion of Sasuke wasn’t high, but it wasn’t necessarily low either. This changed everything. “How dare you!” 

 

Sasuke took another bite, unaffected. “I see Sakura hasn’t told you all of my secrets. That’s nice.” 

 

“What?!” Lee dropped back to the crate, his head spinning. “Sakura  _ knows _ ?” 

 

“Of course she knows,” Sasuke said with an edge of indignation. “Who the hell do you take me for?” 

 

“I don’t - I don’t  _ know _ anymore,” Lee wailed. He held his face in his hands, inadvertently smeared pulp across his cheeks. 

 

“It’s all part of the disguise,” Sasuke explained. He was halfway to the apple core now. “Sakura understands the necessity. It’s a side effect of working undercover.”

 

Lee shuddered. He couldn’t imagine Sasuke came home and...and made love to Sakura, after exposing his body in such an impure way. In fact, he didn’t want to imagine Sasuke making love to Sakura at all. Not because the thought was disgusting, per se, but because the thought was almost alluring.

 

Lee sat up, flattened his back against the wall behind him, and stared at Sasuke head on. “This is unnecessary. You need to come back to the Leaf.” His hand drifted to the vest pocket where his hitai-ate was stowed. “You wouldn’t have to resort to extreme ends like this if you had simply re-enlisted like the Rokudaime offered.” 

 

Sasuke frowned at the mention of Kakashi. “I wouldn’t be able to fuck the bastard who runs this place and slit his throat in the process if I rejoined the Leaf.” 

 

“Espionage,” Lee said. “There’s a department for that - you don’t have to elect yourself.” 

 

“This guy, the boss,” Sasuke began, ignoring Lee’s suggestion entirely, “he kidnaps little boys and girls, forces them to work. They’re homeless and starving, they need to survive, they’ll do anything. So, that’s part of why I’ve gotten in so deep. I’m sneaking kids out one by one, give them all my money, restart the process all over again.” Sasuke bit into the apple again - Lee caught a flash of teeth, like snake fangs. “The boss, he’s got a type. Tall boys with long dark hair. I’m his new favorite. You want a Leaf shinobi to do all that? You want the impeccable Leaf disgraced and used?” Sasuke held the apple core in his palm; a small flame appeared, burnt it to ashes. “The world isn’t black and white. t’s not as easy as rounding up a bunch of soldiers. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Lee.” 

 

Lee’s breath stuttered uneven and fast in his chest. “Stop saying my name,” he retorted before he could bite back the words, unable to acknowledge anything else Sasuke had said - because Sasuke made sense, because Lee realized Sasuke was Konoha’s entire contingency plan - the village’s secret defender, slogging through the depths of filth so none of it would ever come to light.

 

“Why, Lee?” Sasuked jeered, “Nobuyuki services men as well as women, you know.” 

 

Lee vaulted across the room. He did not believe he could overpower Sasuke - the last surviving Uchiha, the Snake Sannin, the one who defeated Orochimaru, the one who once brought the world to its knees - so when he successfully pinned Sasuke to the dirty mattress he knew it was because Sasuke allowed it, because Sasuke was playing games. 

 

Still, he relished in his false upperhand. “I would  _ never _ sleep with a whore,” he yelled, “and I would  _ never _ sleep with you!” 

 

Sasuke laughed, unbridled. He effortlessly knocked Lee onto his back, switching their positions. He leaned over, held Lee’s wrists down, his gorgeous, awful, chiseled face curtained by inky tendrils of hair. “You say it like it could happen,” he whispered into Lee’s ear. “What was Sakura’s message, Lee?” 

 

Lee bucked wildly, filled with rage. Sasuke would not let up. His purple Rinnegan pierced Lee’s soul, saw into his deepest desires. 

 

“What was Sakura’s message?” Sasuke repeated. “ _ I know my wife _ ,” he said. “Sounds like you do too. She talks about you all the time, you know that? In her letters. It made me sick. I couldn’t write back - who would send letters to a homeless whore? It happens sometimes. Eventually she understands she won’t get a reply.” Sasuke chuckled again, his breath ghosting Lee’s jaw. “What’d she tell you? That she was worried about me? She  _ lied _ , Lee.  _ She knows me _ . She was setting you up.” 

 

“Let go of me,” Lee snarled. He would open a Gate if he had to. He wanted to break free from Sasuke’s painful clutches, from the terrible truth Lee knew, somehow, all along. Most of all, he wanted to break free from the heat of Sasuke’s body, his breath, his agonizing touch. 

 

Sasuke clenched Lee’s chin and forced his head to the side. The Rinnegan, stronger than the Sharingan or Byakugan, bored into Lee’s eyes. His entire body locked, immobile from the neck down. 

 

“Tell me,” Sasuke commanded. “I won’t let you go until you do.” 

 

Lee  _ roared _ . He craned his neck up and slammed his mouth into Sasuke’s. Sasuke moaned, tightened his grip on Lee’s jaw. Their noses smashed together. 

 

Lee found himself kissing back. Just like he had with Sakura. This time, there was no stopping, even if he wanted to. There was no world to remember. There was nothing but Sasuke and Sakura’s heart balanced between them. 

 

After an extended period of time - it could have been minutes or hours - Sasuke sat up, panting. He grinned down at Lee, traced Lee’s face with one finger. “Do you remember? When we sparred that one night, so long ago? You saw my curse mark. You forced it out of me.” 

 

Lee’s throat bobbed. “How could I forget?” 

 

“I wasn’t the only one who lost control, huh?” Sasuke asked. “Who else ever saw you like that? Not  _ Hyuuga _ . Sakura sure as hell hasn’t either - but she  _ wishes _ she could.”

 

Lee shut his eyes, as if it would ward off unwanted memories. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 

“You really drive me crazy,” Sasuke divulged. “Especially when Sakura keeps complaining about how you can’t pull your head out of your ass. Naturally, she sent you to me.” 

 

“ _ Why _ ?” Lee begged. He felt wrecked, used by Sakura and Sasuke both, mortified that a large part of him enjoyed it. “What do you  _ want  _ from me?”

 

“You know what we want,” Sasuke said. “And you’ll give it to us. We know you will. You know you will. It’s only a matter of time.” Sasuke slid off of Lee, stood beside the bed. Lee whimpered - what was  _ happening _ \- and spasmed when Sasuke’s relinquished his control over his motor functions.

 

He rolled off the bed and landed at Sasuke’s feet, drenched in sweat. “I can’t - This is all a mistake, you and Sakura - and  _ me _ \- I - “ 

 

Sasuke nudged Lee up into a sitting position with his foot. Lee looked up at his tender, inscrutable expression. “Come here.” 

 

“Sasuke,” Lee breathed. His legs shook as he stood up. “Sasuke, I don’t  _ understand _ .” 

 

“Calm down.” Sasuke palmed the sides of Lee’s face. His hands were smaller than Sakura’s, twice as deadly - strangely, this made them no less calming. It was a matter of intent. “You need to listen. I’ve got a message I need you to send to Sakura.” 

 

“ _ No _ ,” Lee moaned, “I’m not doing this again.” 

 

Sasuke kissed him - just once, soft and short. He separated, shook Lee gently. “Can you do that?” He grinned, “You have my blessing.”

 

“Sure, alright,” Lee replied, not understanding in the slightest. “Can you let go of me?” 

 

Sasuke moved backward faster than anything, faster than Lee. He sat down on the upturned crate like nothing had happened at all. “You need to get out of here,” he said. Rays of crimson dusk broke through boarded windows; it was getting late. “Get out of this village.” 

 

“Will I see you again?” Lee asked. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Sakura. He wanted her to explain what the hell was going on in that calm, collected manner of hers, when everything she said made perfect sense. Most of all he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to kiss Sasuke again, too - but he didn’t know when the next opportunity to do so would arise. 

 

Sasuke snorted, bemused. “What a stupid question. Yes.” 

 

Lee lingered at the door. Sasuke stared back at him. 

 

“I am very angry at both of you,” Lee wanted him to know. 

 

“No you aren’t. This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” 

 

“Goodbye, Sasuke,” Lee said. 

 

He evaded all the slumped bodies in the hall without looking back, leaving Sasuke alone with half of his heart. 

 

The other half awaited him in Konoha. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i'm so excited to be back with an update for this crazy pairing. 
> 
> i initially wanted to create a series of fics rather than a multi-chap but i think this will flow better as a self contained story. i've got enough ideas that i will probably add some epilogue/sequel type stuff in the future. as it stands now i think this fic will have three or four chapters...or maybe five...but no more than that, lol. 
> 
> lee clarifies some things with sakura, then gives her a taste of her own medicine. what will happen afterward? will he see sasuke again? will he forgive sakura? find out next time on konoha's favorite romantic drama!

It took three days to travel from the Land of Waves to Konoha, which gave Lee plenty of time to concede that his encounter with Sasuke wasn’t, in fact, some weird fever dream, but had actually happened, and to also consider what he’d do when he saw Sakura again. 

 

Sasuke’s touch, his kiss, fed something deep within Lee, something Lee had never cared to provoke; he knew Sakura would incur similar fastidious desire if he let her. Certainly he gave into the fantasies during the afterhaze of Sasuke’s sensual incursion, but out on the open road indecision and anger returned. He felt used, lied to - hurt at the fact that his friendship with Sakura surmounted to nothing but a means to her own ends. Nonetheless, he couldn’t deny that part of him  _ enjoyed _ it after being overlooked romantically for so long, especially in the eyes of Sakura herself - even if it was a secondhand affection wherein he was of no importance, a mere conduit for her bottled desires and emotional baggage. Part of him wanted more - but at what cost?

 

He avoided passing shinobi and civilians, fearing that they could sense his perverse yearnings, and hid under his bedroll at night once he made camp in the dark offroad forest. Unable to fend off his conflicted cravings any longer, his subconscious conjured images of Sasuke’s heated amethyst glare and porcelain skin, followed by Sakura’s fresh green eyes and strong thighs. Lee had no choice but to surrender to the will of his want. He replayed both of their words in his head - Sakura’s cryptic half-truths, Sasuke’s latent permissions - their voices combining, speaking in tandem, whispering his name - silenced only by Lee’s muffled shout as he broke down and gave in to his body’s needs. Two nights were spent this way - by the third morning, Lee was filled with shame.

 

He would not keep playing this charade, could not sacrifice his self-preservation for immediate gratification. He was not a vicarious toy meant to be passed back and forth between estranged husband and wife. He would deliver Sasuke’s message for Sakura’s sake, then be done with it all and move on with his life. It was about time he grew up with the rest of his peers. Maybe he’d become a sensei, get a genin team of his own - anything that would keep him busy, or better yet keep him out of the village. 

 

He did not take into account how stubborn Sakura could be. 

 

His arrival coincided with her lunch break. Usually he would be comforted by the sight of Konoha’s gates looming ahead. Given the circumstances, he was only apprehensive and irate as he entered the village. Sakura stood off to the side, obscured by the midday traffic - knowing Lee would always, immediately, pick her out of a crowd. 

 

But Lee didn’t acknowledge her whatsoever. He walked through town, dogged by an anxious pink shadow all the way to the administrative building. She waited outside as he went up to deliver his report to the Rokudaime. 

 

“Come in,” Kakashi beckoned when Lee knocked. 

 

He stepped into the office. It hadn’t changed much since Tsunade’s tenure, save for the lack of alcohol (if there  _ was _ alcohol, it wasn’t in plain sight) and a few personal additions - a picture of Team 7 in their youth, a couple of ninken figurines, the largest coffee mug Lee had ever seen - and Gai-sensei, always seated at Kakashi’s left hand. 

 

“Lee!” Gai shouted, beaming jovially. A stack of paperwork he’d been sorting crashed to the ground as he wheeled around the desk to wrap Lee in a strong hug. “Your mission went well?” 

 

Lee stiffly extracted from his sensei’s crushing embrace - he didn’t deserve the devotion, not now. “I accomplished my objective,” he answered carefully.

 

Gai frowned up at him. “I don’t like the sound of that.” 

 

“What’s the matter?” Kakashi asked, setting aside his pen. Lee looked up, worried Kakashi had seen through his calm guise. The Rokudaime boredly appraised him with a half-lidded stare. “I assume you completed the mission just fine. Unless…” Kakashi trailed off, allowing Lee to supplement any unexpected developments. 

 

Lee didn’t want to keep Sasuke’s status from his sensei. It would be imprudent not to share the news that Sasuke was alive, unharmed - though he didn’t have much else going for him at the moment. “Well,” Lee said. “Um. I, uh - you see - “ 

 

Kakashi slid his gaze to Gai, who was staring at Lee with the intensity of a thousand suns. “Gai, could you give us a moment?” 

 

Gai turned his energy, now chagrined, onto Kakashi. “Rival, please - you are worried about confidentiality now, of all times?” 

 

“Maybe you  _ should _ step out, sensei,” Lee regrettably suggested; he hated to make Gai feel like he didn’t trust him, but wanted to keep the...unforeseen complications from his esteemed mentor. “It won’t take long, I promise you.” 

 

“Well, then,” Gai huffed, affronted, “I shall take my leave!” 

 

He clambered out of the room and ran over Lee’s foot in the process. Kakashi watched him depart with fond amusement, then looked back at Lee. “So?” 

 

Kakashi understood the importance of propriety even if he disliked receiving it. Tradition, routine, professionality, objectivity - these were all things shinobi used to separate themselves from their line of work, to erect a barrier around their experiences - something Gai was never able to accomplish. 

 

Lee bowed shortly, then walked to the front of Kakashi’s desk and handed over his report. “Rokudaime.” 

 

Kakashi tossed the report aside unopened. Lee tracked the scroll’s arc in the air, watched as it bounced to the floor with the rest of the forgotten paperwork. 

 

“Um - “

 

“Sit down, Lee.” 

 

Lee obliged, setting his pack down at his feet.

 

Looking like a parody of a Hokage, Kakashi leaned back in his chair, legs thrown atop the desk, in his standard regalia. “What’s got you so out of sorts? It’s not in the report, is it?” 

 

Lee thought it unwise to encumber Sasuke with a paper trail. “No, it is a matter of great sensitivity.” He slumped in his seat. “I ran into Sasuke,” he informed. 

 

“Ah...” Kakashi’s brow raised. “How is he?”

 

Insane, insufferable, equally sadistic and masochistic. “He’s - not dead,” Lee said. “Currently, he resides in - “ 

 

“I don’t need to know,” Kakashi softly interrupted. 

 

Lee straightened, incensed. How could Kakashi turn a blind eye to his student’s senseless asceticism? “But he’s - he’s living in  _ squalor _ !” Lee exclaimed, “It’s unbefitting - it’s - “ 

 

“Undeserved?” Kakashi asked. “Sasuke seems to think otherwise.” 

 

“What about Sakura?” Lee demanded. “What does she deserve?” 

 

Interest piqued, Kakashi’s gaze sharpened. “She knew what she was signing up for when she married him. It’s not my business.” He observed Lee for a moment, inquisitive. “Why is it yours?” 

 

Lee could not lie to the Rokudaime - more over, he could not lie to Sakura and Sasuke’s sensei. “I care deeply about Sakura,” he confessed, “and Sasuke, too, I suppose.” 

 

Kakashi blinked, gobsmacked at the mention of Sasuke. “Really?”

 

“I did not intend it,” Lee said. “There were some...unexpected developments. Everything happened so quickly.” he made clear before Kakashi got the wrong idea. “I was forced to…” To what? Kiss the Uchiha clan heads? Fall in love with his childhood crush and competitor each? “To play messenger,” he settled on. “Sakura requested that I pass on - um, her arduous affection - and Sasuke has asked the same, in turn.” 

 

“I see.” Kakashi had schooled his expression to unflappable indifference, which, Lee deduced, meant that he was privately reeling. “And you rejected their proposition?”

 

Lee waved his hands in an aborted, hopeless gesture. “Ah - well - not necessarily - “ 

 

Kakashi cut him off before he could ramble on. “What are you going to do about it?” 

 

Lee blanched. “I will do nothing! It is improper, wrong - deceitful!”

 

Kakashi rubbed his forehead. “Let me get this straight. Sakura - out of the blue - asked that you, what - service Sasuke in her place?” 

 

Lee sighed, belabored. “I cannot say it was without precedent or preamble,” he admitted. “Sakura and I are close. Perhaps too close, given that she is a married woman. But it’s never bothered her before.” 

 

“Your relationship?” Kakashi asked. 

 

“Yes?” Lee didn’t know what to call his bond with Sakura. “We’ve never been more than good friends…” Good friends who were increasingly reliant on one another in more ways than one, he declined to add. “It’s more than I had ever hoped for.”

 

“But?” Kakashi prompted. 

 

“But, recently, Sakura has been...forward.” Lee reddened - he’d never told anyone about this, least of all the Rokudaime, who was Sakura’s sensei and his own sensei’s partner; yet Kakashi remained pointedly impassive as Lee spoke. “Not that she’s infidelitous. I know that she loves Sasuke - she worries about him constantly. She’s simply grown openly affectionate with me, too. It’s impossible to ignore. But...it doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.” 

 

“Lee, get to the point,” Kakashi encouraged.

 

“She kissed me,” Lee blurted out. A weight lifted off his chest, and he continued at a faster pace, “the night before my mission. She wanted me to impart a message in case I saw him - in case I saw Sasuke. I asked what the message was and she kissed me.” 

 

“Ah.” Kakashi looked down, busied himself by shuffling papers; Lee wasn’t sure, but there might have been a blush hidden behind his mask. “Under the implication that you’d pass it on?”

 

“I suspect so,” Lee affirmed. 

 

Kakashi focused on a particularly riveting letterhead. “Well, she could’ve just told you what she wanted. But she showed you instead. That has to count for something, right?” 

 

Lee crossed his arms to stave off nervous fidgeting. “I have no idea.” 

 

“She also assumed that you’d actually follow through with it,” Kakashi continued. “Once you encountered Sasuke, I mean.” 

 

“Sasuke and I have history,” Lee confessed, remembering Sasuke’s mention of the brief, emotionally-charged spar that took place when they were boys, which had inspired a new avenue of sexual fantasies for Lee, personally. It was a bit gratifying to know that Lee wasn’t the only one still affected by the aftershocks over a decade later. 

 

Kakashi glanced up. “Really?” he asked again.

 

“Sasuke was receptive, if that’s what you want to know.” Lee did not elucidate further. 

 

“I’d rather not know anything at all.” Kakashi stopped pretending to read and faced Lee head on. “But I understand why you’ve come to me with this. You couldn’t talk to Gai about it.” 

 

Lee cringed at the thought. “No, I could not.” 

 

Kakashi smirked - Lee could tell by the specific crinkle of his eyes - but his mirth was short lived. “How did Sasuke respond?”

 

“Enthusiastically,” Lee replied - and it was Kakashi’s turn to cringe. “But that’s the thing,” Lee said. “It was almost as if he’d been expecting it. From what he told me it sounded like this was a preconceived event on their part.” 

 

“That’s odd.”

 

“I know! They planned this. Like - like it’s a big ruse. Like it’s a game!” 

 

The Rokudaime shook his head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

 

Lee frowned at him. “What do you mean?” 

 

Kakashi shrugged. “Lee, you’re practically my son-in-law. I am going to be honest with you, alright?” 

 

Lee nodded. “Go ahead.” 

 

“This is just my woefully uneducated opinion,” Kakashi began, “but it seems to me like you’re taking this all the wrong way.” 

 

“They lied to me,” Lee protested. 

 

“I’m not saying your frustrations are unjustified. But do you expect anything else from them at this point?” Kakashi asked. “Sasuke, sure - but Sakura too.” 

 

Anger drained out of Lee, replaced by sadness. “I thought Sakura and I were better friends than this.”

 

“You are. That’s what I’m saying.” Kakashi huffed, fell silent for a few moments, before continuing slowly, “She loves you, Lee.” 

 

Lee frowned. “She loves Sasuke.” 

 

“And she trusted you with him,” Kakashi pointed out. 

 

Lee swallowed thickly. “We are good friends.”

 

Kakashi dropped his legs off the desk and leaned forward. “Look, Sasuke is pretty crazy by design. Sakura’s crazy for putting up with him.They might go about it the wrong way, but neither of them do anything in halves. I wouldn’t read too much into it. Take this opening for what it is, if you want to. Or tell them you’re uninterested.”

 

An opening? That gave Lee pause. He’d never thought of it like that. In all the years he’d been orbiting Sakura and, by extension, Sasuke, he considered himself on the peripheral, boxed out while being teased in - joining them in whatever it was Sakura apparently wanted had been wholly out of question. 

 

But how many times had she hinted at such? With tidbits of information on the Uchiha clan, invitations into her home, complaints of marital problems, lingering gazes and fleeting touches. She regaled these things not as if Lee were just a friend, but as an active participant in the whole operation - waiting for him to take the bait. 

 

That explained Sasuke’s immediate eagerness. Lee knew the man well-ish. Not as well as Sakura or Naruto or Kakashi - but well enough, and within a context that only they shared. Sasuke treated Lee like a receptacle for unbound energy, which Lee was more than capable of withstanding. But Sasuke was also closed off, withdrawn - he’d never proceed forward, not without Sakura’s encouragement.  _ She sent you to me _ , Lee remembered him saying. Sakura knew all along Sasuke was toiling away in the filthiest dregs of society, forced into radio silence, never allowed to let his guard down or even keep the basic comfort of correspondence. She sent Lee to Sasuke for her own sake as well as her husband’s. And, if Sasuke’s parting blessing was anything to go off of, Lee’s sake too.

 

A wadded ball of paper jolted Lee from his reverie. 

 

“Stop looking so serious,” Kakashi said. “Are you alright?” 

 

“I think so,” Lee said. “Maybe.”

 

“I know how much Sakura appreciates you,” Kakashi told him. “Sasuke’s tricky, but he’d never agree to something he doesn’t want, even on her behalf.” There was a pause as both men’s thoughts flitted to Sasuke’s decade-long sabbatical away from home. “Just worry about what  _ you _ want,” Kakashi advised. “You need to be very clear about that moving forward.” 

 

The Rokudaime stood, inspiring Lee to scramble out of his seat. Their conversation was over. 

 

“Are we good here?” Kakashi asked.

 

Lee nodded. Kakashi hadn’t helped matters much, but he definitely put some things into perspective. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome. Now,” Kakashi slapped his hand on the desk, “you wanna help me get through some of this paperwork? I know Gai’s dying to spend time with you - and Sakura’s still waiting outside. If you take long enough she’ll have to give up and go back to work.” 

 

Lee smiled. “I wouldn’t mind at all.” 

 

/ 

 

After all the paperwork had been completed - Gai and Lee created an assembly line sorting documents, while Kakashi waited with his official stamp - they played card games on the recently vacated desk. Lee didn’t know if he was ashamed or honored taking part in misusing the office of leaders past for such negligent purposes, but he couldn’t decline the friendly invitation. It was nice to spend time with his sensei whom he rarely saw as of late, both of them busy serving their own loved ones (Kakashi and Sakura respectively), and he felt privileged being one of the few shinobi with a direct line to the Rokudaime - not as Hokage, but as a simple man who cheated at cards, made raunchy jokes, and kept a hand on Gai’s knee, right above the start of his cast, at all times. 

 

Now in their fifth round, the betting pool had grown to include crumpled bills, Ichiraku meal vouchers, a knife gifted to Lee by Tenten, and Kakashi’s copy of the latest  _ Icha Icha _ installment, which had been taken over by a mysterious author whom everyone theorized was either Naruto or Kakashi himself. It was a substantial bounty, though Lee didn’t value the pornographic novel as much as the other prizes. 

 

Gai stared at his hand for several moments before tossing the cards facedown. “I fold,” he announced, defeated. 

 

Lee’s prospects weren’t any better. He bit his lip, judged his odds, then conceded as well. “Me too.” 

 

Kakashi laid out his hand for them to see with a smug grin. “Looks like I win again.” 

 

“I refuse to believe your luck is that good,” Gai said. He grabbed Kakashi’s arm and inspected the inner sleeves of his robes. “You’re cheating, I know it!” 

 

“You can’t prove anything.” Kakashi pocketed his cherished book, stuffed the cash and coupons in his ninken-themed wallet, and held the knife up to the light. “Tenten’s got great craftsmanship.” 

 

“She does, indeed,” Lee agreed, sad to see his weapon go. He had many others crafted by his teammate, so it wasn’t a total loss, but pained him nonetheless. 

 

Gai smiled proudly as Kakashi sheathed the blade. “She’s the best weaponsmith in the world!” His praise was hyperbolic, but not too far from the truth.

 

Kakashi glanced at him, then held the knife out handle first. “Take it. She’s your student.” 

 

Gai shook his head. “You won - fair or not, the victory is yours.” 

 

“But I  _ insist _ .” Kakashi placed the knife in front of Gai. “Hokage’s orders.” 

 

Gai rolled his eyes. “Pfff! I don’t take orders from you.” He accepted the gift anyway, flipped it deftly between his hands to test its heft and handling. 

 

Lee watched Kakashi lean toward Gai, noted the affection in his gaze. “You  _ are  _ the only one immune to my command, aren’t you? It’s a huge pain in the ass.” 

 

Gai chuckled. “Figuratively, or literally?” 

 

Now it was just awkward. Lee stood up and gathered his things so he wouldn’t have to hear anymore. “I should go,” he said, “it is getting late.”

 

Kakashi swept up from the desk and clapped Lee’s shoulder. “It was good to see you.”

 

“You too, Rokudaime.” 

 

Kakashi waved off the title. “Don’t bother with any of that.” 

 

“But...,” Lee started. 

 

Kakashi ignored him, began wordlessly gathering the cards. Lee looked away to find Gai staring at him expectantly. 

 

“I’ll show you out,” his sensei said, leaving no room for protest. 

 

“Yes, sir.” 

 

They stopped just outside the door. 

 

“I’m not exactly sure what’s going on,” Gai said - he held up a hand when Lee opened his mouth to speak, “but I can extrapolate from your morose countenance that it is a matter of the heart.” 

 

Lee ducked his head, chagrined. Gai knew him too well. 

 

“I will not bully the details out of Kakashi, though I assure you I could if I wanted.” 

 

Gai grinned and Lee feebly attempted to mirror him. Gai took Lee’s hand in both of his own. 

 

“I am not offended,” Gai promised. “I know you will tell me when you are ready. I also know that everything will work out. You are a good man, with a good heart. Listen to what it is telling you. The answer to your problem might not be ideal - but it needs to be honest. Do not lie to yourself or to the ones you love,” Gai said with untold wisdom. “It is a waste of your youth.” 

 

“Yes, Gai-sensei,” Lee mumbled. Tears gathered in his eyes. It was so easy to fall back into the role of an impressionable genin at times like these. Kakashi’s advice was helpful, if a bit brusque - but nothing comforted Lee like Gai’s reassuring consolations. “I will try my best.” 

 

“You will do what needs to be done,” Gai rectified. 

 

He gave Lee another hug. This time, Lee fiercely reciprocated.

 

“Kakashi really cheated,” Lee said to lighten the mood, his voice muffled in Gai’s shoulder. “Every single round.”

 

Gai’s laughed loudly. The sound reverberated through Lee’s torso. “I know. My rival is a trickster indeed! Sometimes it is best to let him play his games. He doesn’t have enough fun, you know?” 

 

They parted. Lee wiped his eyes. 

 

Gai smiled fondly. “Go forth, my dear pupil.” He gifted Lee a miraculous double thumbs-up. “Follow your heart!” 

 

/

 

Lee walked home guardedly as if Sakura was about to jump him at any moment, but in reality she was back at the hospital already per Kakashi’s merciful stalling.

 

He fumbled through his apartment blindly, went straight to the bathroom, and allowed himself a rare, long, hot shower. He scrubbed hard, watched the accumulated grime swirl down the drain. Silence reigned heavy and palpable once he cut the water. 

 

Lee stared at his naked, muscular body in the mirror after stepping out. He imagined Sakura’s build was just as toned, based on her defined arms and legs and the fact that they were similar in most other aspects. Sasuke, by no means unsubstantial, had a more sinewy quality - his strength lay in method and intent, rather than physicality itself. The couple contrasted each other in many ways; Lee dressed before he could speculate on how he fit into the equation himself. 

 

He left a trail of wet footprints as he padded to the kitchen. Standing in front of the electric kettle, he downed three scalding cups of instant ramen (a brand Naruto recommended, citing his expert opinion) in quick succession. Lee thought of Gai throwing a fit over nutritional vigilance, and smiled to himself. 

 

His smile fell as he stared at the rest of his studio apartment. His former apartment held many personal accoutrements, but Lee hadn’t found the time amidst the war and reconstruction to decorate his new home. Afterward, he couldn’t find a reason for it. His losses, both of the living and the dead, were too fresh, and he didn’t want to be reminded of better times gone by; plus most of his memorabilia had been destroyed in Pein’s assault. The utilitarian space was barren and altogether depressing, save for a few plants gifted by his sensei and a shrine dedicated to Neji that sat on a small table in the corner. 

 

Lee abandoned his ramen on the counter to check on his plants. The leaves were healthy and waxy, the soil damp when he pressed his fingertips to it - Sakura must’ve watered them, as she did whenever he went on a mission. He imagined her using the key he’d given her, solemnly entering the apartment despite their ill parting. 

 

Lee then sat on the floor in front of Neji. The framed portrait was the only surviving photo of his teammate Lee had. Frayed along the edges, creased and dirtied, it depicted Neji candidly smiling. The photo had been taken by Tenten shortly before Pein’s attack, when their whole team had met for dinner at a quaint outdoor cafe. Neji’s smile had vanished at the sound of the camera clicking, and he’d fought to wrest its evidence from Tenten to no avail. Tenten gave Lee the picture a couple days later - proof that Neji had normal emotions like anyone else, she’d said.

 

The portrait was surrounded by a collection of hardy orchids - delicate yet durable, much like Neji himself. Lee lit a stick of incense with a match and lowered his head. He always felt stupid doing this. He had no idea if Neji appreciated these small talks, somewhere beyond the grave.  

 

“Hello, Neji,” Lee greeted. “My mission went fine. Or, what took place within the mission’s parameters went fine, that is. As for the rest...I do not know.” 

 

Lee scrunched his nose, unsure if Neji knew of “the rest.” If Neji knew of anything, if Neji was watching them - Team Gai and Hinata - at all, or if he was gone forever, and all that remained of him was the caricature Lee kept alive in his imagined dialogues. 

 

“You’ll be amused to know that Sakura kissed me for the first time,” Lee continued. “I cannot lie and say that it wasn’t great. It was glorious. But only for a moment, until I remembered why it was happening - because of Sasuke. I kissed him, too, by the way. Because Sakura asked me.” Lee paused. “And, I guess, I wanted to. Just to shut him up, maybe - he is awful as ever - but there’s more to it than that.” Questions of sexuality aside - Lee never bothered worrying about anything like that - the more pressing matter was the fact that Lee had inadvertently wedged himself into a dysfunctional marriage. 

 

He looked up at Neji’s portrait. Depending on the subject of their discussion, Neji’s smile took on a different quality. Now it teased Lee, beguilingly exasperated. Get on with it, Neji seemed to say. 

 

“You probably don’t want to hear this,” Lee said. “I just don’t don’t know what to do. I know everything about this is wrong. I know I’m being used, and that I deserve better. But a part of me doesn’t mind. It feels good to be important, no matter how conditional that importance is.” Lee sighed. “What am I saying...this isn’t helping.” He chewed on his lip, ruminating, then confessed, “I’ve always loved Sakura and I always will. I’d do anything for her - even this. But I don’t know if I should.”

 

He sat until the incense burnt out, then climbed to his feet, body aching, and bowed.

 

“I hope you are well. I miss you every day, my friend. Thank you for listening.” 

 

Despite his exhaustion, Lee was too wound up to sleep. He decided, against instinct and better judgement, to leave his apartment. 

 

By now the late afternoon had segued into early evening and dusk was beginning to settle across the quieted village. Citizens retired to their homes, street stalls and storefronts locked up, the day’s business finished, while shinobi changed guard, the first of the graveyard shift arriving to their silent posts. Teenagers prowled the emptied streets in packs, all of them looking for something to do to postpone reprimandations from their parents, save for the real troublemakers who would not be missed at home or had no home to go to, whose antics came from a more malicious place. Evading these packs, couples walked with linked arms to fragrant restaurants, as shinobi, fresh off grueling missions, entered the rowdy bars next door. 

 

Lee declined a faster route on his way to the Uchiha complex which sat on the outskirts of town. Passing the village center, he observed the evening traffic to gather his thoughts and to remind himself that his life own life wasn’t the nexus of the universe. No matter what happened, all these people would continue their daily routines oblivious to the fact that Lee’s own routine had been disrupted beyond the point of no return.

 

Sasuke, Sakura, and Naruto had erected the main Uchiha house with a minimal amount of bickering. The latter hoped this was a new sign of the former returning home, though Sasuke worked with a solemn sense of duty, knowing that he’d leave once they opened the door. Anymore attachments would be useless in function and symbolic in nature, so the rest of the land sprouted outward from the main house unkempt and wild. Sakura sometimes hired a genin team to cut the grass and prune the trees, but the recent barrage of seasonal rain impeded her from doing so. 

 

Lee unlatched the rickety gate at the foot of the path leading to the front door. Tall grass and wildflowers, unpretant in the early summer, grazed his ankles as he walked. The porch eaves thrusted at an upward angle, seemingly beckoning him up the porch steps which creaked underfoot. He paused, took a deep breath, then knocked the door.

 

His heartbeat thudded with the muted sound of Sakura’s house slippers clunking his way, then froze entirely when she opened the door still dressed in her hospital uniform, her hair loose in a previously pristine, but now scraggly, bun. 

 

Her eyes widened and her lips parted at the sight of him. She clutched the doorknob for support. “Lee? I thought - I - I wasn’t expecting you.” 

 

“We need to talk,” Lee said. 

 

“Yes - we do.”

 

Neither of them moved. Sakura didn’t seem sure of what to do with herself, shifting from foot to foot. Her gaze flitted up and down Lee’s form - cataloging potential injuries, of which there was none, though her eyes creased at the signs of fatigue in his face. 

 

“How was your mission?” she asked, eventually. 

 

“Don’t act like you care.” Lee’s voice did not raise or sharpen, his words ammunition enough. Sakura cringed, and he continued, “I saw Sasuke.” 

 

The doorknob creaked in Sakura’s hand. She released it and wiped the sweat off her palm onto her pants. 

 

“He wasn’t surprised to see me,” Lee informed. “He said that you set me up.” 

 

“Sasuke says a lot of things,” Sakura said. 

 

“So do you,” Lee countered. 

 

Sakura sighed.  “Why don’t you come inside? I’m about to make dinner, we can sit and - “ 

 

“No.” Lee tried his best to ignore the hurt that flashed across Sakura’s face, asking, “Did you expect us to remain friends, after all of this? Do you think I am that naive - that much of a fool?” 

 

“No!” Sakura stepped forward. Lee sped backward and nearly fell off the porch, but Sakura grasped his arm, righted him to his feet. “You’re not a fool,” she said. “You’re a good person, and - and you’re my best friend.” 

 

In any other context the admission would’ve sent Lee over the moon; now it just made everything worse. He wrenched from her grasp. “If you were my best friend, you wouldn’t use me to assuage your guilt over Sasuke.”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that. You have to believe me,” she pleaded. 

 

“In what way did you mean it, then?” Lee demanded. “I don’t understand!” 

 

Sakura’s face contorted miserably; she sank down to sit on the steps, unable to stand under the weight of her mistakes. “I… I kissed you because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to for a really long time.” 

 

Lee glanced away, shaking with quiet rage. “You can’t - you can’t tell me that. Not  _ now _ , when you’re  _ married _ , when - I waited for you for years, Sakura.”

 

“I  _ know _ ,” she groaned. “I took it for granted. I never realized how much you meant to me… Not until Sasuke left.” 

 

“So I am a replacement?” Lee asked. “Is that it? A convenient stand-in husband?”

 

Sakura looked up at him, brow furrowed. “You aren’t a replacement. You’re -  _ you _ . You’re so nice and helpful and I - I stepped out of line.” 

 

“You cheated on Sasuke,” Lee snapped, “with  _ me _ .” 

 

Sakura’s eyes narrowed. “You saw what he does, didn’t you? He’s not exactly chaste either.” 

 

“No, he is not. You are both awful people.”

 

Sakura turned away. “That’s fair.” 

 

Lee drooped at her defeated posture, sympathetic when he had no reason to be - because he was a good person, like Sakura had said, like Gai had told him. He lowered next to her, keeping space between them. “What are you trying to accomplish with all of this?” he asked. 

 

Sakura shrugged. “I was being selfish. My feelings got out of control.” 

 

“Your feelings?” Lee shook his head, unwilling to process the implications of that right now. “But you still love Sasuke,” he stated. 

 

“I do.” Sakura finally turned to him again, her green eyes dark and unreadable. “He came up with the idea.” 

 

Lee’s face fell in shocked confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

 

“Sasuke rarely makes sense. But he knows how much you mean to me. He told me to do something about it - told me to send you to him if you needed convincing.” 

 

“Who gives their wife permission to kiss another man?” 

 

Sakura frowned. “I don’t need permission to do anything.”

 

“But you just said - “ 

 

Sakura huffed. She clutched both of Lee’s hands, forcing him to silence. “I want you,” she told him. “You never caught on. You’re too good to overstep boundaries. Sasuke thought a more direct approach was necessary, and I agreed.”

 

Lee looked at their joined hands, thought of all the times they sparred, ate, laughed, and cried together, sometimes late into the night, and of how Lee had refused to analyze Sakura’s motives because he couldn’t believe that there was any possibility of what Sakura was admitting to him now. 

 

“Why not simply tell me?” he asked.

 

Sakura scoffed at that. “You would’ve done what you’re doing right now. You’d bring up my marriage, make excuses - “ 

 

“I am not making excuses!” Lee pulled away from her hold but didn’t move any further. Sakura clasped her hands in her lap and waited as he stewed. “There are valid reasons why this will not work.”

 

“Such as?” 

 

Lee shot her an incredulous look. “You are  _ married _ ,” he said for what felt like the millionth time, “Even if Sasuke is always gone - I can’t take advantage of that.” 

 

Sakura’s brow rose. “You aren’t taking advantage of me.”

 

“It’s common decency,” Lee went on, and remembered something he’d heard from Kiba once. “I cannot make a move on a married woman.” 

 

Sakura’s brow rose even higher, so that it nearly eclipsed her expansive forehead. “Make a move?”

 

“It is a figure of speech,” Lee explained. 

 

“I know what it is,” Sakura said, “and that is not what’s happening here.” She paused. “Do you really think that this is new - like what you’ve done for me lies within the realm of a normal friendship?” 

 

“I - “ Lee pressed his lips together, blindsided by Sakura’s random question. “I care about you. That is all.” 

 

“You visit me at work,” Sakura began, counting off on her fingers, “you’re at my house all the time, you listen to my rants, you buy me groceries, you spend holidays with me, you’re my favorite sparring partner, I’m the last person you see before you go on a mission - “ 

 

“I get it,” Lee said. 

 

Sakura was undeterred. “My uniform doesn’t have the Uchiha crest. Every time we get new medics, they all ask if you’re my husband - because why wouldn’t they?” 

 

Lee stared at the yard, Sakura’s words hanging heavy in the air. The sunset slanted over the wavering flowers, deceptively calm and picturesque. “What do you tell them?” he asked. 

 

“That you might as well be.” 

 

Lee swallowed. Sakura touched his knee. 

 

“You’re my first emergency contact,” she said. “Not Sasuke. Because you’re actually here when I need you. And I know I’m yours - I’ve seen your records.” 

 

“That is true,” Lee mumbled. The last time he was in the hospital a nurse had requested that he update his information. He wrote Sakura’s name in, followed by Gai’s, thinking nothing of it - knowing that she’d understand, if the time ever came for someone to contact her. 

 

Her hand tightened on his knee. “You do so much for me and never get anything in return. Maybe I wanted to repay you.” 

 

Lee snorted and sent her a wary side-glance. “By sending me to Sasuke?” 

 

“I had to make it seem like what it wasn’t, otherwise you’d never agree.” Sakura pressed closer. “When I kissed you… I wanted you to know that you mean as much to me as Sasuke does, and to pass the message on to him.”

 

“And why would he be okay with any of this?” Lee asked. 

 

“He likes you,” Sakura said. “He told me about what happened when you were kids.” 

 

“That was years ago,” Lee said. “We were just boys. It meant nothing. We didn’t - nothing came of it.” 

 

“But he never forgot about it. Neither did you.” 

 

“Still…” Lee’s face reddened. “A boyhood crush does not equate to whatever this is.”

 

“It could,” Sakura murmured. “If you give it a chance.” 

 

The entire time Lee had thought this whole ordeal was between Sakura and Sasuke, and that he was an outlier. But it turned out that Sasuke was the external mechanizing force striving to bring Lee and Sakura together. Thoroughly confused and emotionally exhausted, he dropped his head to Sakura’s shoulder. She stiffened, surprised, but gradually settled into his side. For a moment, it was just like things had been before - when they were just more than friends, and everything had been left unsaid. 

 

“Your logic is terrible,” Lee told her. 

 

Sakura smiled, her cheek pressed against the crown of his head. “I’ll admit I didn’t think this through.” Her next words were muffled in his hair. “How did it go with Sasuke?” 

 

Lee’s blush deepened at the memory. “It went fine.” 

 

“Just fine?” 

 

“No,” Lee confessed. “It was - more than fine.” He hadn’t the capacity to divulge further, and left it at that. 

 

Sakura knew him well, extrapolated what she needed to know by the tone of his voice and the rigidity in his posture. “That’s good.” 

 

“He gave me his blessing,” Lee revealed, realizing for the first time, based on their terrible logic, that Sasuke was allowing him to love Sakura as much as he did himself. “And he has a message for you.” 

 

Sakura lifted her head off of his, intending to question him, but Lee framed her face in his hands and silenced her with a kiss. She made a noise against his lips, caught off guard, but then melded into his embrace, circling her arms around his waist to pull him closer. She felt strong and firm against his chest, anchoring, gravitating; her weight pushed him down so that the edge of the porch dug into his back, the Uchiha crest visible overhead through the open door behind them. 

 

Lee parted softly. Sakura whispered his name.

 

He deposited her off of his lap before he did anything else and rose to his feet. The porch creaked. He brushed his hair back, fixed his shirt, stood above Sakura with his hands hanging listlessly at his sides. 

 

“That was Sasuke’s message,” he said. “It isn’t mine.” 

 

She scrambled after him as he jogged down the porch steps, her hair falling from its bun with the sudden movement. She grabbed Lee’s hand, turned him around, and he stilled in the middle of the walkway. “What are you saying?” she asked. 

 

“I have been in love with you since we were thirteen,” Lee said. “I made peace with the fact that you would never reciprocate. But to do this in such a roundabout manner, with lies and games and - and everything.” Lee tore his hand from hers and stepped backwards. “It hurts. But it is my fault. I gave you too much credit. I shouldn’t have expected anything more from the woman who married Sasuke Uchiha.” 

 

Though they were only a few feet apart, it felt like a gulf had opened up between them. Sakura stayed where she was. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, sounding miserable. It gave Lee a small amount of retribution. 

 

“You should’ve been honest with me,” Lee told her. “That is all I ever wanted.” 

 

Sakura crossed her arms tight against her chest. “What do you want now?” 

 

Lee recalled Kakashi’s parting advice. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to see Sasuke. Not for a while. I need time - to think. I need to be alone.” 

 

Sakura nodded. “I understand.” 

 

“Goodbye, Sakura,” Lee said. 

 

Her expression crumpled. “Please - please don’t say that.” 

 

He left her without another word. 

 

/ 

 

Lee entered the Hokage’s office early the next morning without knocking. Either the Rokudaime had been there the entire night or he snuck off while his husband was still asleep, because he sat at his desk alone, nursing his giant cup of coffee - just as Lee had hoped. 

 

Lee did not offer a greeting, nor did he bow. “I need a mission,” he said. “Long term. Far away from Konoha.” 

 

“I take it things with Sakura didn’t go well?” Kakashi asked. Lee didn’t reply. Kakashi sighed, rifled through a stack of papers, procured a lengthy document, and peered at its contents. “There’s an A-rank escort job up for grabs. Fresh off the hawk’s talon - haven’t even posted it to the board, yet.” He passed the paper to Lee. “It’ll take about a month at least. Is that long enough for you?” 

 

Lee scanned the document. A high profile government official from a countryside village had requested charter through dangerous lands to negotiate trade agreements in a foreign country. 

 

He looked up.  “This will do.” 

 

Kakashi lazily waved him off. “Safe travels, loverboy.” 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!!!! 
> 
> apologies for my extended absence. this chapter was really hard to write, plus life got in the way. super excited to be back! we've only got one or two chapters left. thanks for sticking with this story!! 
> 
> edited the warnings and tags. this got...bloodier than i anticipated.

After departing Konoha Lee traveled southeast through the Fire Country’s right flank. He arrived, days later, on a peninsula which straddled the waters between the Land of Waves and Land of Mist, at a rural village in a low valley populated by more wayside vagabonds than civilian locale. Protected by the peripheral treeline to the north and the ocean in all other directions, farmland spread along rolling hills, interspersed with a minimal amount of cobbled cottages that wafted feeble trails of chimney smoke. Farmers and field hands toiled behind rickety barbed wire fences whilst ratty sheepdogs and shoeless children chased cattle in the distant grasses behind them. Everyone and everything appeared impoverished and destitute. 

 

Lee fought the urge to duck his head in order to avoid the wary gazes sent his way as he traversed deeper into the valley along a single dirt road. He came upon a farm and strolled toward a field hand loitering at the fence. Covered in dirt and sweat, the field hand eyed Lee, as well as the Leaf insignia on Lee’s waist, through the smoke which originated from a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. He pushed off the fence to face Lee properly, distrust communicated in his tense posture, and waited for Lee to speak. 

 

Lee offered the field hand an awkward wave. “Hello!”

 

The field hand plucked the cigarette from his mouth, held it over the fence, and tapped it twice. “Don’t get many shinobi through these parts anymore,” he commented.

 

Lee had slid his foot aside so that the ash would not fall onto his sandal. “I’ve been hired by someone named Suzuki-san,” he informed. 

 

The field hand’s mouth twisted into a grin which showcased his chapped lips and yellow teeth. He returned his cigarette into this grin, took a long drag, and asked, “The hell does the mayor want you for?” 

 

Lee steeled himself against the onslaught of smoke, his nostrils burning. “Trade negotiations. The invoice did not elaborate.” 

 

“Prob’ly not,” the field hand grunted. He gestured down the road. “Biggest house in the village, up on the hill. Can’t miss it.” 

 

Lee followed the direction of the field hand’s calloused hand, then looked back. “Thank you.”

 

The field hand was not finished conversing, perhaps looking for an excuse to extend his break. He leaned his forearms on the fence post. His hip jutted out at a strange angle. Lee realized his left thigh was outfitted with a wooden prosthetic. “Must be a big job, if you’re involved,” the field hand guessed. 

 

“I suppose so,” Lee said.

 

The field hand cocked his head, examining Lee’s jounin vest. “Yup. It’s gonna be a big one, alright.” 

 

“What kind of job is it?” Lee asked, unable to conceal his curiosity. 

 

The field hand’s eyes abruptly narrowed. He glanced away and busied himself with putting his cigarette out on his prosthetic leg. Upon closer inspection Lee found several burns, the size of a ryo coin’s inner keyhole, dotted along the wooden limb. 

 

“The kind that got me here, for better,” the field hand flicked the cigarette butt over the fence, “or worse.” Obligingly, Lee squashed the cigarette wiith the toe of his sandal. The field hand extended his hand over the barbed wire. Lee accepted the handshake. “Take care of yourself.”

 

“You as well,” Lee returned. 

 

The field hand smiled again with the air of someone who knew more about the situation than Lee did. “Thanks.” 

 

Lee walked off, then stopped and looked over his shoulder to watch the field hand retreat, hobbling on his prosthetic leg. Lee proceeded down into the village once he disappeared from sight. 

 

The dirt lane gave way to loosely packed gravel pockmarked with faint impressions of old footprints. Here the fields shrunk into a clump of residential neighborhoods only slightly neater than the outlying farmhouses, navigated by a single street. Lee scanned the village with constantly moving eyes, cataloging important details to better understand the context of his mission. 

 

All the buildings were constructed with wood in a sort of squat, slapdash style, none of them advancing more than one story. Bleached and broken by sun and storm, their walls bowed out as if they were constantly at capacity. Few businesses were advertised, save for the usual staples of any place - pubs, grocery stalls, clinics and the like, all probably understocked and underemployed. Most likely the rest of the buildings housed the fieldhands who worked outside of town. 

 

Awnings stretched over the street like grimacing broken teeth, under which traffic commenced on foot. Civilians were easily separated from travelers by their lesser appearance; most of them dressed in rags, all harried by physical labor. Lee noted, with a small amount of shock, that women comprised the majority of the adult population. They walked alone, in pairs, and with children in tow. The heads of male field hands - presumably off the clock - bobbed above the crowd, affording a special radius of space on account of their wider frames and apparent rarity. 

 

Despite being ravished by poverty Lee detected no outward signs of crime or foul play in the village. Business was carried out with downturned eyes and shuffling feet. The usual clamor of conversation, characteristic of this type of scene, was conspicuously absent. The entire population seemed to have surrendered to their lot in life, and went through the motions with a quiet submission which caused Lee heartache. It pained him to know that places like this existed in his home country. A humbling reminder that Konohagakure’s status was not indicative of the Land of Fire at large. 

 

Perhaps that naive ignorance is what caused the passing locales to regard him and his shinobi attire with suspicion. His healthy physique, clean skin, and tailored uniform made him stick out like a sore thumb. Lee’s attempts at pleasant smiles were met with disgust, so he quickly circumvented the main street by way of narrow alleys to divert attention from himself. 

 

The alleys slowly began to widen, then deplete entirely, once he reached the backside of town. The surrounding fields had never been totally out of view, but now they spread out unobstructed over a plateau of land beyond which the crashing ocean tide could be heard. A large two-story cottage, made of whitewashed walls and decorated by cherry wood trim, sat at the apex of the plateau. It was most certainly the largest structure Lee had come across, so he ambled up to its front door and knocked thrice. 

 

If the house did not denote the owner’s importance, then the starch white apron worn by the soft-footed servant girl who answered the door did. Lee straightened and subtly eyed her for hidden weapons or agendas. He could never be too careful, even during peacetime in a hamlet such as this. The entire job was giving Lee a bad feeling, though he felt guilty for immediately being suspicious of the servant girl whom, as far as Lee knew, was just as hapless as the field hand he’d encountered previously.

 

“I am looking for Suzuki,” he said brightly to make up for his internal misgivings. “I was hired out of Konohagakure,” he added, though this was obvious judging by the hitai-ate wrapped around his waist. 

 

Her brown hair smoothed into an impeccable bun, the servant girl stood in the doorway with perfect posture and a demure, effacing gaze, but she too observed Lee for the same reasons he examined her. Apparently satisfied with her ocular analysis, she nodded once and beckoned for Lee to come inside. “This way, please. Suzuki-san is waiting upstairs.”

 

Lee silently appraised the collection of gold and porcelain trinkets decorating the clean interior as he was guided through the first floor. How one came to such a fortune in a rundown village like this, Lee could only guess. He began to wonder if the mayor’s political career was only a cover for more nefarious dealings, and, if so, whether or not Kakashi was aware. 

 

Following the servant’s lead, Lee jogged up a set of polished stairs. The second story was smaller than the first yet equally ostentatious, housing only a master bedroom and study. Cut out like a missing puzzle piece, a large balcony overlooking the ocean encompassed the rest of the second story, where a group of three men, whom Lee presumed were the mayor’s guards, sat around a small circle table strewn with playing cards.

 

The servant opened the balcony’s glass paneled door. “The shinobi has arrived, Suzuki-san,” she announced, then stepped aside, allowing Lee to emerge onto the balcony. 

 

Lee had expected a fat, chortling man puffing on a cigar, but the person who rose to greet him was not fat, chortling, nor a man, though she did have a cigar in hand. Her surrounding guards looked over their shoulders as she stood, and assessed Lee with beady eyes, each of their leathery faces weather-worn and branded with unique scars.

 

The mayor, Suzuki, was an elderly woman with thin white hair and thin wrinkled hands, but she carried herself in a pronounced manner befitting Lee’s initial stereotypical prediction. Her cigar dwarfed her fingers, all of them ringed with heavy gold and silver. She held out her free hand to Lee, the large sleeve of her embroidered shift trailing to the balcony floor as she did so. “You must be Lee-san,” she said.

 

Lee accepted her firm handshake. “Just Lee is fine.” 

 

Suzuki’s rings dug into his palm as she tightened her hold. “We are not friends, Lee-san.” 

 

Abashed, Lee backpedaled, conscious of Suzuki’s guards staring daggers at him. “Right. I’m sorry for assuming.”

 

“Let’s just get down to business, shall we?” Suzuki relinquished Lee’s hand, and the guards returned to their card game. “Sit down,” Suzuki said, communicating with her flat tone of voice that it was not a request but a command. 

 

The only open seat was the one previously occupied by Suzuki. Lee sat, surrounded by the burly guards, and set his pack down at his feet, trying to appear like a professional shinobi. He’d fought in war, he’d killed men, and he’d do it all again - but his current company put him on edge. Socialization was never his strong suit. 

 

“Hungry?” Suzuki asked. “You must be tired from your travels.” 

 

Lee had chugged several canteens of water on his way here along with a few food pills, but he assumed that declining Suzuki’s hospitality was a bad idea. “Something small would be nice,” he relented. 

 

“Very well.” Suzuki snapped her fingers. The servant girl, who hadn’t yet moved from her position just behind the balcony door, stepped forward. “Get this man something to eat.” 

 

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said, then whisked off downstairs. 

 

Suzuki turned back to Lee, one arm tucked against her chest, the other bent at the elbow so that her cigar was easily accessible. She inspected Lee’s sinewy frame, unimpressed. “I was not expecting someone of your stature when I put in my request to the Hokage. I explicitly asked for a capable warrior.” 

 

Lee puffed his chest. “I am a taijutsu specialist. If it is protection you need, I swear I can provide it!”

 

Suzuki hummed, faintly amused. “I do not require protection, per say.” She waved her cigar at the card players. “You are simply extra muscle. A contingency plan, if you will.” 

 

Lee’s chest deflated. “I see,” he replied. 

 

“Do not look so upset,” Suzuki said. “I mean no offense. But you must understand that I am slightly disappointed.” 

 

“He’s Gai Maito’s student,” one of the guards gruffly interjected. “He’ll be fine.” 

 

Suzuki and Lee both turned. The guard did not look up from shuffling his cards. 

 

“How did you know?” Lee asked. 

 

The guard shot Lee an incredulous glance. His acquaintances frowned in turn, their game on hold. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” 

 

Lee looked down at his jumpsuit, then back up. “Have you met him?” 

 

The guard sniffed non-committedly and threw a card down. “Ran into him in my old line of work.” 

 

Tensions eased once the game was back in play. Lee faced Suzuki, who now examined him with a sharpened gaze. “Gai Maito,” she murmured. At this point Gai’s conquest was virtually known across the world. “The man who struck Madara Uchiha.” 

 

“He passed his techniques onto me,” Lee said, attempting to sway the argument in his favor. 

 

“Let us hope that your sensei’s reputation bolsters your own.” 

 

Lee thought that his reputation was bolstered enough, but chose to remain silent. 

 

Suzuki strode forward, perched herself on the balcony railing, and observed the sea below them. Both her hair and the smoke coming off her cigar was tossed by the scented wind. She raised her voice to speak over the salty breeze. “I’m sure you’re wondering what my motivations are for enlisting you.”

 

Lee straightened. “Yes, I am,” he confirmed, remembering the words of the field hand down the road.

 

“I kept my request vague for a reason. I’m surprised it did not fall under more scrutiny.”

 

It would have, had it sat in the missions tray for longer than one day. Kakashi was a busy man; he couldn’t be held accountable for all that traveled through his office, and Lee had been too quick to snatch the offer before anyone could give it more than a cursory pass. Unable to explain this without incurring judgement on himself or his Hokage, Lee fibbed. “It was simple enough,” he said. But a mission of this rank could not be so simple, he knew.

 

“Outwardly, yes,” Suzuki said. “Before I explain the details, I must assure you that all of this legal.” 

 

Not assured in the slightest, Lee nodded. 

 

“I am a businesswoman, first and foremost,” Suzuki began. “I’m sure you’ve heard the villagers call me ‘mayor’ and whatnot; a convenient title for official purposes, but one which I do not personally ascribe to.” She shrugged and took a drag off her cigar. Smoke billowed from her reedy lips as she continued: “When the war began, the shinobi forces withdrew from this area and our little town became a sitting duck. Some very bad men saw this as an opportunity. You can imagine what happened next. All of our men - fathers, husbands, brothers - they all perished.”

 

Lee struggled with a reply. “I’m sorry that happened,” he settled on. 

 

Suzuki raised a threadbare eyebrow at his pitiful response. “It is of no importance now.” Her expression smoothed, and she flexed her hand, examining the rings on her fingers. “I used to deal in antiques, you know. It’s why I’m out in the middle of nowhere. Bunch of family heirlooms collecting dust in farmhouse attics. You’d be surprised to know how much they’re worth. For a long time I traveled the countryside until I needed an inconspicuous place to settle down. I chose poorly. Or so I thought at the time. But if you’re smart, you can make the best out of any given situation. After everything that transpired here, people needed direction - a leader.” She nodded at the card players. “My men protected me during the skirmish. I was the wealthiest person left alive. Naturally, leadership befell me. It was just as well. After all of the men died their widows were left to shoulder their estates, and no one was able to tend to the fields.”

 

Lee’s brow furrowed. “But - on my way here, I saw countless men at work. Who are they?”

 

“ _ They _ are a commodity,” Suzuki said. 

 

Lee pursed his lips. “So, you intend to negotiate for human labor?” 

 

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Suzuki scoffed. “You must understand - the men whom I enlist are not your average civilians. They are criminals, charged with nonviolent petty crimes. I pay for their bonds in bulk at a discount. The village’s economy is saved, I make a small commission on our crop exports, and the men get their freedom back.”

 

Lee reflected on the field hand he conversed with earlier: his leathery skin, shrewd eyes, and prosthetic leg. “They are indentured servants,” he said. “That is not freedom.” 

 

Suzuki shrugged. “Freedom by any degree is better than imprisonment.” 

 

“And how long are they in your debt?” Lee asked. 

 

“As long as it takes for them to pay off the cost of their bonds. A large portion of our workforce just did so. We need another batch.” 

 

Lee detested the way Suzuki spoke of the men as if they were cattle. More than that, he was shocked that a dealing of this type had been brokered by the Hokage’s office. Did Kakashi know? And, by extension, Gai-sensei? What else was approved behind closed doors - information exclusively reserved to the Hokage and his council? 

 

At any rate, it mattered not. Lee held his tongue and kept his ponderings at bay. He looked at Suzuki, who had been watching him ruminate with amusement. “If you have done this for so long, why is my presence required?” he asked her. “What has changed?” 

 

Suzuki smirked. “Your looks deceive you, boy.” 

 

She smashed her cigar in an ashtray seated beside a betting pool of coins. The guards lowered their cards and leaned back in their chairs. Lee affixed his posture as well. 

 

“We’ve run out of domestic stock,” Suzuki explained. “We’re going abroad to the Land of Waves. You are our diplomatic precaution, shinobi.” 

 

The glass paneled door opened once more to reveal the servant girl toting a platter of food. 

 

“Eat and rest,” Suzuki said. “We leave tomorrow.”

 

/

 

Lee thus found himself back in the Land of Waves. He and his contingent had traveled by foot, then boat, then foot again. Customs did not pass them a second glance as their paperwork was processed. Suzuki’s reputation either preceded her or the Waves was accustomed to this type of business—or Lee’s presence as a Leaf contingent was comforting enough to allow them passage. 

 

They spent a night in the port village they’d arrived at, then trekked onward through the humid country. They hopscotched across the small gathering of islands, stopping often for drink and pleasure. This, it seemed, was standard fare. Suzuki’s guards were insatiable. Lee supposed jaunts like these were their only chance at entertainment, for certainly none was found in their home village. He also presumed that the return trip would be more expedient, what with the kind of cargo they would acquire. 

 

Suzuki had high tastes. She refused to camp on the road. Some nights they walked until midnight in search of a town. Most were similar to the fishing village Lee had found Sasuke at: grimy, greasy, and rife with debauchery. He sat in brothels and bars, staying at Suzuki’s side whilst her guards indulged in establishment services. He half expected to come across Nobuyuki, but Sasuke never materialized - in disguise or otherwise. 

 

“Are you taken for?” Suzuki asked him one night. They were sitting in the dark alcove of a pub, emptied glasses piled atop the table between them. Though she drank as much as her men, Suzuki held alcohol well, her inebriation betrayed only by a light blush in her face. Lee, comfortable drinking in Sakura’s presence only, didn’t touch the stuff. 

 

Her memory gave him pause. He struggled to answer Suzuki’s question. “No.”

 

“Then why not enjoy yourself?”

 

A scantily clad barmaid passed their table, a tray of drinks held aloft in one hand. She slowed beside Lee and trailed her other hand across his shoulder, winked, and whisked off. 

 

Lee’s cheeks reddened. He fastened his eyes on the sticky table. “I don’t care for excursions such as these.”

 

“Well…” Suzuki retrieved a fresh cigar and its clipper from a fold in her robes, nipped off the cigar’s end, and lit it with a complimentary matchbook embellished with the bar’s name. “Places like this exist for a reason,” she said through a cloud of smoke. “There’s no shame in it.” Her eyes narrowed when Lee didn’t respond. “Are you celibate?” 

 

Lee barked a bitter laugh. “Not out of choice.” 

 

“You do have a strange look about you,” Suzuki noted, assessing Lee’s unique haircut and large eyes. “It’s not  _ bad _ , though.”

 

“Thanks,” Lee said. 

 

“That waitress seemed interested in your company.” Suzuki lifted a brow. “Or, are you...of different tastes?”

 

“It’s not a matter of  _ taste _ .” Lee pursed his lips. “Anyway, I thought we were not friends. Why do you care?” 

 

Suzuki shrugged. “You interest me.” 

 

For what reason, Lee didn’t know. “It’s complicated,” he sighed. 

 

“There’s someone else,” Suzuki guessed. 

 

Someone else, plus her vagabond husband. “I’d rather not talk about it.” 

 

“You must. Otherwise you’ll be ascetic forever.” 

 

“That doesn’t bother me,” Lee said. “I am used to rejection.” 

 

“There’s no sense in closing yourself off,” Suzuki countered. “Exclusivity is old-fashioned.” Her painted lips twitched in a smile. “I never married, but I had several suitors.” 

 

Lee did not want to learn about this perverted woman’s love life, so there was no choice but to speak of his own. “The person I love is married,” he divulged. “She is happy in her own odd way, but… I do wonder what it would be like if things had turned out differently.” 

 

Suzuki snorted. “What’s the husband like?” 

 

“Disgraced, but honorable. Cruel as he is kind. She’s loved him since she was a child, just like I’ve loved her.” 

 

“A love triangle,” Suzuki surmised. “How dramatic.” 

 

Lee sent her a look. “It’s partly why I signed up for this job. To get away for a bit.”

 

Suzuki leaned over the table. “Go on…” 

 

Lee shrugged, uncomfortable. “Something happened. Involving the three of us.” 

 

“Scandalous,” Suzuki drawled. 

 

“It isn’t what you think,” Lee said, blanching. “I don’t know  _ what _ it is, to be honest.”

 

“Monogamy,” Suzuki tapped her cigar in the ashtray, “spoils all the fun.” 

 

Lee frowned. “You say that as if there is an alternative.” 

 

“You know as well as I do what that alternative is.” 

 

“But—that would be wrong.” 

 

Suzuki rolled her eyes and gestured at Lee’s hitai-ate. “You shinobi hold societal norms in such a high regard. Imagine, for a moment, a world without honor, structure, or rules.” She waved at the surrounding pub. “A world much like this one here.” 

 

“That would be terrible,” Lee said. “Tragedies like the one that befell your village would be everywhere.” 

 

“Perhaps. That is the price we pay for freedom.” 

 

Lee bristled. “The Land of Fire is not the dictatorship you insinuate.” 

 

“That is not my argument,” Suzuki clarified. “Yet, there is a difference between freedom _from_ something, which bureaucratic protections provide, versus freedom _to_ _do_ something, which bureaucracy limits as a matter of necessity.” 

 

A fleeting thought passed through Lee’s mind: Sasuke would adore this woman. “Are you an anarchist?” he asked. 

 

Suzuki chuckled. “Oh, no. If there were true anarchy, there would be no economic system for me to exploit. I’m simply proposing that everyone quits being so uptight.” She wound her ringed hand between the maze of empty glasses and patted Lee’s trembling fist. “I think you’d find some relief, if you did.” 

 

Lee snatched his fist away from her touch and clasped his hands in his lap. “That is very presumptuous of you to say.” 

 

“This girl and her troubled beau,” Suzuki began, undeterred, “do you like them both?” 

 

Oh, what was the point in lying? Lee nodded silently. 

 

“And this incident you speak of… Was it good or bad?” 

 

“By your definition?” Lee asked. “Good, I suppose. But—” 

 

Suzuki raised her hand. “No buts. If the situation is what I think it is, based on the limited amount of information you’ve given me, then there’s nothing holding you back besides your own fears.” 

 

“But,” Lee interjected once more, “my fears are not unjustified. If I were to...take the route you’ve alluded to, there would be repercussions. I am a shinobi and, like you said, I cannot act against the values which I swore to protect and uphold.” 

 

Suzuki narrowed her eyes. “At the cost of your own happiness?” 

 

“Yes,” Lee vowed. 

 

“And what about the happiness of the people you care about?” 

 

Lee hesitated, but his resolve wasn’t any less resolute. “They can find happiness within each other. That’s why they got married, is it not?”

 

“If that were the case, why bring you into the fold?” Suzuki inquired. “Tell me, Lee-san—do you always dress your selfishness in righteous grandeur?” 

 

Lee shot up from the table. “Selfishness?! I am acting in everyone’s best interest!” 

 

“You are acting in the interest of a society which does not understand subtlety.” 

 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Lee snapped. “You know nothing of how they’ve hurt me!”

 

Suzuki languidly puffed her cigar. “And instead of finding counsel you’ve run away like a child. If you truly cared for them, you would not be so easily persuaded by what is expected of you.” 

 

Lee did not deign Suzuki’s admittedly accurate claim with a reply. He instead stalked off and bustled through the pub’s floor, intending to escape outside for a breath of cool air. 

 

Halfway towards the door a slender hand accosted him by the elbow. He spun around, defenses raised, but it was merely the barmaid from earlier. She looked up at him with big, round eyes, her cleavage pushed up through her tight blouse. “Are you okay?” she asked; despite her outwardly beguiling appearance, Lee detected true concern in her voice. 

 

“Would you like to join me for awhile?” he asked.

 

She smirked. Her hand snaked down Lee’s arm and she entwined their fingers. “Sure. Let’s go to the back.” 

 

“Very well,” Lee said. And he went to drown his sorrow, anger, and longing in this attractive stranger, flashes of pink hair and red-violet eyes haunting him all throughout the tryst.

 

/

 

The group’s travels resumed, for the most part, in silence. Suzuki’s guards took point. Lee really was only there for show. His senses alighted with every passing bandit, of which there were many, but each one deterred upon realizing the group’s might. Suzuki walked unfatigued with an endurance that did not match her age. She and her guards had the countenance of roughened civilians—similar to that of shinobi, simply unhoned and untrained. The guards carried rudimentary broadswords and bows, equipment which harkened back to times long past. 

 

Lee kept his impatience and curiosity in check for two weeks. It became apparent they were taking a circuitous route along the island’s perimeter before finally encroaching upon its center. Here the forest thickened, far away from the oceanfront though the smell of the sea never left entirely. 

 

For the first time they made camp outdoors. Suzuki slept in a tent whereas Lee and the guards laid on the ground in bedrolls. In the morning they roasted dry foodstuffs over an open fire, then broke camp and set off. Energized with anticipation, Lee settled into his shinobi instinct now that their strange vacation had come to a close. From now on it was all business. 

 

The forest parted to an artificially cleared embankment. A path the width of three men astride lead them towards a large building silhouetted against the trees, demarcated by a tall chainlink fence. Bottlenecked into a single file line, Suzuki walked ahead, followed by her guards with Lee in the rear. 

 

A small outpost bedecked the fence gate. Suziki strode toward its aperture and conversed with the stationed guard. Her men held back, smoking cigarettes whilst Lee appraised the prison complex. The building was antediluvian in nature, a single block of cement with a small recreational yard. Before he could study any further the guards put out their cigarettes on Suzuki’s cue, and they were all lead indoors. 

 

The prison warden met them in the foyer. He regaled Suzuki with the physical prowess of his prisoners, assuring her they were worthy of their price tag. Lee hung back, irritated at Suzuki in general and unapproving of her conversation. 

 

He did not often wish for chakra control, considering himself apt enough with the abilities he had at his disposal, but he wondered how much he’d be able to detect were he able, for the inmates they passed on their way deeper into the complex exuded as much strength as the warden promised. Clearly doubtful of Lee’s own constitution, many of them gave him shrewd, salacious appraisals, whistling and waving their hands through the bars of their cells. 

 

Thankfully, the warden unlatched a heavy ring of keys from his belt and guided them into the furthermost cell block. Here the inmates were less upracious, moseying about at their leisure, unshackled. They lined up at the warden’s order. Suzuki proceeded to walk down the line, prodding the men here and there, asking the warden questions about their health, her guards and Lee in tow. 

 

Lee wasn’t too interested. He kept his gaze ahead of himself, disillusioned by this entire mission. His thoughts flitted back to the barmaid he’d laid with weeks ago—her soft, receptive body, her wanton moans, her impersonal extraction of pleasure matched only by his neutral deliverance. The night left him feeling dirty with the knowledge that he’d gone back on his own morals for a fling which left him more evascerated than before.  

 

One of the inmates cleared his throat as Lee passed. Instinctually, Lee turned at the noise, then froze in place. A tall, lithe man stood before him—one eye covered by long raven hair, his jaw tight with discipline. Hands behind his back, he jerked his chin, an acknowledgement and indication that Lee should move on.

 

Lee stumbled after Suzuki and the group before his absence was noticed. He fought not to look over his shoulder. Nobuyuki—Sasuke—he was here! How? When had he gotten arrested? And why had he  _ allowed _ himself to be arrested? Lee had no doubt that Sasuke could fend off a hundred men if he wanted—so why hadn’t he? Was his cover that important? 

 

A thousand questions rattled around Lee’s brain. He suffered through another hour of Suzuki’s deliberations whilst constantly tossing glances in Sasuke’s direction, who looked back at him in kind. At one point, Sasuke pantomimed an ineffectual slouch, giving Lee a clear view of his hands which flickered in rapid signs known only to Leaf shinobi. Lee didn’t have time to scoff at the irony, too busy deciphering Sasuke’s message. 

 

All he could make out was  _ attack, imminent _ . He stiffened immediately. 

 

Then, Sasuke broke away from the line and yelled “NOW!” 

 

All the inmates dispersed in a frenzy. Suzuki got swept up by her men. The warden called for guards, who launched from the cell block’s perimeter into the fray. 

 

Amidst all the chaos a hand clasped around Lee’s wrist. He turned to find Sasuke, guised as Nobuyuki, glaring at him. “You’re coming with me.” 

 

Lee tore out of his grasp. “Did you plan this?!” 

 

“I wasn’t expecting  _ you _ to be here,” Sasuke hissed. “Let’s go!” 

 

A guttural moan and spray of blood sounded behind them. Lee pushed Sasuke aside to find one of Suzuki’s guards dead at her feet. “I have a job to do,” he told Sasuke, then leapt away to land in front of his charge. No matter his opinion of her, he was a shinobi and would protect her with his life. 

 

“Lee,” she gasped. 

 

“Do not worry, Suzuki-san,” he said. 

 

Her surviving guards coalesced around them both. “We gotta—” one of them started, before a chakra-infused fist lanced through his stomach. 

 

“There’s aren’t civilian inmates,” Suzuki snapped. “That fucking warden—I told him I didn’t want a  _ liability _ !” 

 

Lee pressed into Suzuki’s front, acting as a human shield against blood and viscera as several inmates dismembered and disemboweled the warden. They then turned their ire onto Suzuki, who clutched the back of Lee’s jumpsuit, her rings cutting into the skin of his shoulder blades. 

 

Her guards left her to Lee, jumping ahead wielding their broadswords and loosing arrows. Lee knew it would only buy him time to help Suzuki escape. He spent one second of silence to appreciate their sacrifice, then shoved Suzuki behind him and opened two Gates. Instantaneously, veins and tendons bulged out of his burning red skin. Now he would prove to Suzuki the fruit of Gai Maito’s tutelage. 

 

Unable to leave her side, he fought off incoming assailants. More inmates poured in from the other cell blocks. Some crashed through windows to freedom whilst others sought to vent their pent up frustration. With the warden dead, they targeted the remaining prison staff, then turned onto Suzuki. Lee dispatched as many as he could, while still acting as a wall between them at Suzuki, but it was for naught—there were simply too many opponents, a sea of them cornering Suzuki and Lee into inevitable defeat.

 

Before Lee could deliver a finishing blow Sasuke appeared and ministered it for him. “She’s not worth it, Lee. There’s no escape. You’re going to kill yourself if you stay here.”   

 

“I have to,” Lee said. He flung his arm out and grabbed another inmate by the neck, squeezed his fist, and discarded the body. “Stop distracting me! This is your fault!” 

 

Sasuke stayed close, jumping in between each of Lee’s opponents, trying to convince him to desert Suzuki. “She’s scum. You know she is. She deserves to die for what she’s done.” 

 

“I do not believe in justice by execution,” Lee said. 

 

“What justice is there in sacrificing yourself for someone who is damned?” Sasuke asked. 

 

“I don’t know—I never got around to asking Sakura that question,” Lee countered. 

 

Sasuke’s face darkened. He darted behind Lee. Lee spun around, but it was too late. Even he was not fast enough to outpace Sasuke Uchiha. 

 

Using the fallen broadsword of one of Suzuki’s men, Sasuke decapitated Suzuki in one fluid motion. Her head rolled away, open-eyed. A fountain of blood showered them both.

 

Lee stared at Suzuki’s headless corpse, then dragged his gaze up at Sasuke only to be met with the Mangekyo Sharingan and Rinnegan. 

 

Sasuke’s genjutsu infiltrated Lee’s limbs. He crumpled to the ground, paralysed. Sasuke gathered him into his arms and his vision went black. 

 


End file.
